


Ezreal's Excellent Adventure

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Futanari, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: Ezreal's a lot of things. Bold, athletic, sharp-witted and, most importantly, handsome. Pretty, even.In a world with as many fine ladies as Runeterra, what are the chances that he'll run into ones that want to get with him?





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I expect that this story will get more chapters in the future, which is why it's getting posted separately from the [Poll One-Shot Stories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747037).

Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer, was lost.

Not lost as in "unable to find his way out". Certainly not! He'd never, ever found himself in such a humiliating position as that, being unable to escape a predicament or dangerous environment. No, he was lost for direction. So much of the world was out there for him to explore, to seize and uncover for the sake of satisfying his wanderlust. And maybe contributing to the world's archaeological knowledge. He was happy to pass along any such finds to museums, scholars, or governments for further study, so long as he got a cut (or at least some recognition).

After all, he was the one risking his fabulously handsome self, trekking through jungles, deserts and mountains for lost ruins, to say nothing of the various international or civil wars he had the chance of stumbling into. If he was going to suffer perilous bodily and psychological harm, he certainly hoped that he'd be getting compensated for it!

But now, he was left at a crossroads. His usual decisive self was nowhere to be found, replaced by a cautious, almost meek regard for the various opportunities before him. 

He knew he was strong enough to take any of them on. Despite his delicate features, his lush eyelashes and plush lips, there was power in his limbs and steel in his heart. Even his hips, svelte and lithe as they were, spoke to a flexibility and agility that had saved his life many times over.

The only question was, which path to take? Only one area could be ventured at a time, and pursuing one might lock out the others for some time. Where to go first?

Should he brave the dark spires of Noxus, with its literally cutthroat politics and affinity for the violent and the callous? An expedition to the violent corners of this city would require no small amount of luck, but the potential for reward in combing its blood-soaked history for artifacts and information was considerable. Would it be worth the risk, given the city's reputation?

Or perhaps its mirror city, Demacia, might offer a better opportunity. It certainly wasn't the riskiest venture, but such a single-minded atmosphere bred its own dangers in social slights and cultural trespasses. Still, some secrets _had_ to be hidden, forgotten in its vaults and armories, waiting to be uncovered and understood.

His home town of Piltover, built atop its sister city Zaun, teemed with vestigal technical tricks and blueprints for tools both exotic and practical. He had spent a great deal of time here, but there was always more to be elucidated. His familiarity with some of the denizens would certainly prove useful.

Ionia was no ruin, but its settlements were more porous, less rigidly defined compared to much on the mainland. Its inhabitants, though hardened by the Noxian invasion, are still predisposed towards cooperation and will be readily willing to help if information can be uncovered. The magical monuments, unspoiled for generations, offer almost unsurpassed opportunities for study.

Then again, cities were not where all the ruins were, the crumbling hallmarks of forgotten civilizations and peoples who'd long since returned to the soil...or been buried there much more recently.

Ezreal wasn't eager to travel to the frigid wastes of Freljord, but there was little doubt in his mind that the frozen peaks and vast tundra hid caverns, barrows and hidden burial caches that would fetch a pretty penny...and further the world's understanding of such an impenetrable locale. The native peoples might welcome him, or they might try to slaughter him: it really depended on which ones he ran into.

The deserts of Shurima bred a hardy people, ones that had eked out livelihood to varying success after the collapse of the old empire, or the horrifying destruction of Icathia. Traveling here would require no small effort, but the sands were practically teeming with old tax slates, toys, caravans and abandoned cities. The possibilities were endless, and treacherous.

The Jungle was as mysterious as it was nameless, and those who had returned from its depths spoke of poisonous plants, aggressive wildlife, and scattered settlements along the river that seemed to barely hold out against the encroaching foliage. All agreed that no great culture had ever flourished here. Challenging this claim was one objective, but even if it was true that no more settlements awaited to be explored since Ezreal's uncovering of the Elixir of Uloa, there was still much to be gained. Anything from soil samples to captive animal specimens would be worth a great deal to preeminent ecologists, zoologists and botanists.

And, of course, there were the Shadow Isles. An impenetrable place, one that had once housed a vast, ethereally beautiful civilization that had undergone the worst possible dark age that one could conceive of. This was doubtlessly the most dangerous place that could be visited: the few who had drifted close to it spoke of mists that clutched at the eyes, trees that groaned and whispered, and unruly spirits that issued dire prophecies not meant for living ears. Ezreal REALLY shouldn't go here. Not at all. The worst possible fates awaited him if he chose to explore this environment.

The question was, which to choose?


	2. Piltover

Home was where the heart was. That was how the saying went, wasn’t it? And home still meant a great deal to Ezreal. He had been born and raised there, scurrying around his uncle’s university, and even if his parents had yet to return to him, Piltover would arouse the fondest memories of his early life, of his mother and father.

So it was the Ezreal found himself arriving at Piltover, the city of progress, the edge of technology and hextech craftsmanship. From his home in the southern part of the city, he could take in everything that made Piltover...well, _Piltover_. The hum of machinery and hiss of steam, the pulsing lights of crystal power sources, the murmur of pedestrians on skybridges and the _shwip_ of rising and falling elevators. 

Where to start? 

He could begin his search near the port of the Sun Gates, where the canal overlooked the sea that separated the continents of Valoran and Shurima. The towering hub meant different things to the residents of Zaun and Piltover: to the latter, it was a symbol of economic power and control of the key strait between the two continents. To the former, it was a symbol of how the “Pilties” lorded their privilege over the Zaunites, uncaring of the consequences to the lower city. There would be a great, great many lost keepsakes and artistic pieces in the flooded districts, if he had the will to search.

Ezreal didn’t think of himself as a thief, but he had little doubt that many cultural pieces lay forgotten in private collections among the houses of the Bluewind Court, gathering dust for some the sake of some rich family’s ego. He wasn’t going to “steal” these objects, per se, merely scope out some homes and see if any might be in unsafe hands. The richest part of the city was, in theory, the safest, after all, especially if one was counted among the privileged. Ezreal wasn’t, sort of, but he could blend in just fine. He hoped.

Of course, even the upper city of Piltover had the potential for some mischief, especially in the southern district. Every once in a while, adolescents from Zaun or the lower-income communities in the city proper swept through, tagging public monuments and alleyways with graffiti depicting an assortment of entirely unsuitable slang terms and inappropriate symbols. Ezreal had no interest in running into these teenagers, bereft of hope but not vigor, but he had to consider the possibility that the places they frequented had some value. No one thought to look for blueprints, valuables and objects of scholarly interest in the alleys, of course, which meant that if any _were_ there, he’d get first crack.

Lastly, of course, he could venture down to the city of Zaun itself, or at least as close as he could muster before the fumes overtook him. He’d probably stay close to the city limits of Piltover, but not because he feared Zaun, of course. Why, he had ventured down there on many an occasion! No, the true reason to stay near Piltover, besides avoiding coughing up a lung, was the knowledge that, at the intersection of cities, where material passed through porous customs and was seized or forgotten with some frequency, objects of interest to Piltover originating in Zaun might turn up more easily than even if he ventured to the depths of the lower city itself. There was certainly the possibility of encountering some toxin-addled grifters or louts, so he had to consider this the most dangerous option.

Where would he go?


	3. Bluewind Court

Why go through the trouble of exploring potentially dangerous waters, or the fumes of Zaun, or the skeevy alleys in the upper city? Ezreal had all the prizes he could seek right in front of him, rather than behind some silly barrier like “flooding” or “chemical pneumonia” or “getting shived in the back”. The richest in Piltover had always been able to afford to lock precious relics away for themselves, so he might as well scope out the scene and see if any were better suited to belonging in a museum.

He did his best to look like he fit, which wasn’t easy, given that he never really splurged on fancy clothing even following a successful expedition. Compared to the gold weave and shining sapphire jewelry all around him, Ezreal was rather drab and unassuming in his brown overcoat and dusty dark boots, which normally would have helped him blend in if he was anywhere _other_ than the most gentrified part of the city. Oops.

Still, he weaved through the pedestrians with ease, dodging squabbling business partners and chattering couples. Compared to the traps of a Black Rose hideout, the upper crust of Piltover was hardly a challenge for a man of his flexibility and finesse.

He took his time, dawdling by houses with un-curtained windows and small front yards, trying to look inconspicuous. He probably wasn’t doing a very good job, but luckily for him it didn’t take long for him to spy something of interest. A heavy, jewel-encrusted goblet, covered in designs that resembled scatterings of stars. Constellations. No doubt something related to the celestial-based spirituality of Mount Targon and its complex, decentralized cultures. How it had ended up in a rich Piltover house was anyone’s guess, but Ezreal had a mark. He’d have to be back in the evening to get a better idea as to what might work, but for now, he could…

“Hello there, citizen.”

...Turn around and find himself face-to-face with a police officer. Wonderful. And no, of course it wasn’t just _any_ police officer, it was Caitlyn, the Sheriff. Her top hat, corset and frilly dress, all shaded some sort of purple with white accents, sort of gave it away. Plus, y’know. The sniper rifle that was nearly as long as he was tall.

“...Evening, officer.” Ezreal lowered his goggles to cover his eyes, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t recognize him.

“Ezreal, I know that’s you. Don’t try to hide from me.” No dice. He should have known better than to try and escape her notice, and pulled his goggles back up sheepishly.

“Is something wrong, officer?”

“I’ve known you for years and we’ve had this conversation many times. You can call me by my name, even if you’re in trouble.”

“In trouble, me? Why, I never!” He pouted, lip quivering slightly as if he might go off on an indignant tangent. In public like this, humiliation _might_ get Caitlyn off his case, but only if he made enough noise. And nobody was even sparing him a second thought or sideways glance as they hurried about on their business.

“Frankly, trouble might as well be your middle name.”

“Have I broken any laws, Cait?”

“No.” She frowned, chewing the inside of her cheek. 

“Then why harass me? I’m allowed to be in the rich part of town. There aren’t laws against that, are there? At least, not yet, I would hope.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not illegal... _yet_ , although some fat cats seem to be getting uppity about that. And sure, you don’t break any _serious_ laws, but you flirt dangerously close to crossing the line. I know the look of a thief scoping out a mark, and combined with your past charges of loitering, attempted graffiti and almost-public indecency, it does make me wonder a bit.”

“Oh?

“Are you doing this on purpose? You always get _this_ close to breaking the law. Enough to draw my attention—and _always_ mine, since you’re sneaky enough to dodge the rest of the force—but never enough for anything serious to happen.” A slow smile is starting to become apparent on Caitlyn’s features, and it dawned on Ezreal what she was saying. He opens your mouth to protest...and thinks better of it.

Her outfit really doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, with her skirt ending well above her thighs and her bustier hugging what has to be a sizeable bust. And she’s certainly beautiful, if a bit harsh of features. If she thought he was playing a game with her, maybe it was best to play along.

“Maybe I _am_ messing with you, Caitlyn.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. “And what exactly would happen if I was?”

“Why, I’d need to take you in.”

“Oh.” Maybe he’d been misreading her intentions. Caitlyn was, especially in comparison to Vi, an infamous stickler for the rules. He’d been stupid to imagine that—

“To my home, of course. To see if you can handle what you’re making every effort to get. Am I right? Have my detective skills paid off?”

Ezreal took a step back, eyes darting every way across her body, glancing over her rosy cheeks, the straining of her breasts beneath her top, her milky-white thighs...and the slight tent in her dress. 

Something clicked inside his head, and he tilted his head up to meet Caitlyn’s eyes. 

* * *

“If you wanted this all this time, you could have just—mfff—you could have just _asked_ , you know.”

Ezreal didn’t respond, too focused on grabbing the armrest of the couch and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth to form words. Caitlyn had, true to her word, taken him back to her place to see if she was on the money with her deduction. And how right she was. 

She’d barely had a chance to strip herself down, save for her violet hat and gartered brown boots, before Ezreal was throwing off his own clothes and flinging himself onto her, plush lips slobbering up and down her shaft, calloused hands kneading her balls while he stroked his own shaft. Ezreal’s endowment was far from small, but Caitlyn might as well have been packing a second rifle, with how much her long cock dwarfed his own. How did she hide that beneath her skirt, even if it wasn’t as thick as some others he’d seen? Ezreal had no idea.

He’d paid adequate tribute to the magnificence of Caitlyn’s member, dotting kisses up and down from the nutsack to the tip, flicking his tongue out along the fatter head before letting it slip between his lips. She’d had the decency to not facefuck him, contenting herself with a hand on his head and soft murmurs to the effect of “You’re doing fabulous, Ezreal” and “Keep it going, I’m almost there…”

When she came, it wasn’t as explosive as he might have suspected from such a hefty pair of balls, but Caitlyn’s climax was still plentiful. Salty, warm spunk filled his mouth and cheeks, coating his tongue in a layer of cream until he pulled off her dick, enjoyed an approving ruffle of his spiky hair, and swallowed it down with a gulp. 

He hadn’t cum yet, but he’d have been happy to stop if she’d run out of steam, even if blue balls were a pain. But, in her own words, “It’s already all lubed up, might as well put it to use.” As if getting the chance to stuff his butt and watch her cock disappear between his round asscheeks was something she’d be doing offhand, just because she could, rather than something she’d strive for. The almost casual way she affirmed that, sure, she’d fuck him, was incredibly exciting. Ezreal had never thought of himself as a slut, but he could almost see the appeal with how... _wanted_ Caitlyn made him feel, even as she bent him over the couch, lined up the thick head of her dick with the puckered star of his asshole, and thrust in.

Now Caitlyn had a hand on his hips, the other reaching forward to wrap around Ezreal’s erect, bobbing dick, her pelvis pounding forward and back as she fucked him. However casual her tone had been, Caitlyn was a _good_ lover, attentive and reciprocal, caring and sensitive. When she leaned forward and pressed her plush tits against his back, her dark hair brushing against his shoulders and whispering encouragement into his ear, he could _feel_ his balls tense and a dollop of cum roll out of the tip into her fingers. And when she leaned back, angling her dick _just_ right that it punched his prostate, he was left sobbing in delight, drooling helplessly as he was speared on the Sheriff’s cock. 

“You’re so _fucking_ pretty, Ezreal.” Caitlyn swore for the first time since she’d started banging him, the vulgarity standing out among her prim and proper accent. “I don’t know why _I_ didn’t approach you about this before, but now...oh, Ezreal, I think it’s coming…”

Ezreal whined and thrust his butt back to meet her jabbing cock, his voice hoarse from gasping, unable to properly articulate how much he loved being wrapped around her dick. The fullness, the heat, the stabbing pressure was too much, especially when she swiveled her hips and the head of her shaft rubbed that sensitive little button inside him. Through it all, the Sheriff, kind and courteous as she was, never stopped reaching around to stroke his length, only stopping when she needed to adjust her hat and keep it from tilting off her head.

“I’m...I can’t hold it in, Ezreal. Be ready!” That was the last warning she gave him before she buried herself fully in his rear, her balls pressing against his own, and came. If his blowjob had induced a moderate orgasm, this one was positively _explosive_ , hosing down the inside of his ass with thick, hot cum that sent his nerves afire with pleasure. It was enough for him to, at last, enjoy the anal orgasm he’d been craving, his balls pulsing with every pump of spunk out the tip of his dick, splattering Caitlyn’s hands and dripping onto the couch as she cradled the tip between her fingers.

“There we go, Ezreal, let it all out. You’re doing amazing…” Even as his ass clamped down around her invading rod, forcing a few more spurts of Caitlyn’s load into his already-pumped-full-butt, she didn’t stop gently reassuring him, whispering encouragement into his ear, her breasts rubbing against his sweat-slick back. He seemed so delicate now, in the aftermath of being reamed, even more slender than herself. Ezreal should have gone to Caitlyn earlier, much, _much_ earlier, if _this_ was what he would have gotten all this time.

“That feel good?” She murmured, and he nodded assent, the heat fading from his cheeks. 

“Fantastic.” Caitlyn leaned back away, keeping her cock buried in his ass as deep as it would go, her balls still noticeably plump. “I’ve got at least two more in me, if you’re up to it. I’ll make it good, don’t worry. Want to go again?”

“ _Yes_.” Ezreal gasped, the first thing he’d said since they’d stepped into her home. “However you want. Just give me more, _please_.”

Caitlyn chuckled and rubbed his ass, marveling at the softness resting beneath the muscle. “As you wish, my dear. And who knows? I suspect that this will be happening _much_ more than two times in the future. Little would please me more than seeing you again next week, for instance.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Ezreal croaked, as Caitlyn drew her cock halfway out and thrust back forward, her nuts coming to rest against his balls with a soft _smack_ as she started to fuck him again. Life was good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the first part of the story! I'm not sure when it'll be continued, but trust me that it will!

**Author's Note:**

> Ezreal's gonna be experiencing this kind of thing a lot.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


End file.
